Hubble bubble termite trouble
Tap tap…testing, testing…1, 2, 3…
It’s been a while, crocodiles.
A month, in fact, since I posted from the sheet less bed in my – oh - old house. A month in which we have passed through the valley of cardboard and emerged, blinking like moles, into the new suburban light. A new suburban light which, I’ll have you know, is tinted yellow by bottle glass windows, and brown by vertical blinds. A suburban world of architectural wonders, everso shouting children and friendly neighbours. All of which deserves a post unto itself.
But while we were buried down there in our little house-moving purgatory – stolidly chewing our way out through card and packing paper – what of the Regency Wreck? Well, in fact, it was having a little crisis of its own, quite understandably.
It all began with the builder, a thoroughly thorough sort of fellow, digging away at the layer upon layer of flooring in one section of the house. In some places there were as many as three or four floors all laid on top of each other, like so (though this is only two):
I mean, actually, when you think about it, why bother to remove old floors when you can simply cover them up? Just add more as needed Missus and stop only when you can no longer stand up straight. Anyway, while he was removing extraneous floors, the Thoroughly Thorough Builder noticed some rather suspicious little trails of mud which, when he followed their progress, led him to yet aNOTHer termite nest, very artfully and discreetly secreted within one wall. And, in the way of termites, those little buggers had gone up and down, left and right, and nibbled away at the floor joists in four rooms. Four!
I give you, ladies and gents of the jury, exhibit A, itself a mere fraction of the nest:
And what he found was that the floor joists, which conventionally are supported within the fabric of the wall, in the RW appeared to stop shy thereof. In fact, they were held up only by the render on said walls, which, when it was removed to get at the termite nest, resulted in such scenes of floorless carnage:
and this (which is the entrance to my study)
so that you can see almost from top to bottom of the house at the rear. No need of internal intercoms now:
So the dear old Regency Wreck, which before looked derelict but absolutely beautiful, now just looks, well, abandoned. Much in the way of the houses of my childhood, except without their dignity or intrigue. It’s as if we’ve taken a rather grand but crumbling old lady, removed her pearls, her lippy and her wig, pulled her arms out of her fur coat and left her revealed and without dignity under a fluorescent light.Our last few visits, to be honest, have been somewhat woeful affairs, characterised by a distinct flatness. We knew this sort of thing was to be expected, of course, but expecting something and encountering it are never quite the same thing, are they?
BUT. But! They say diversion is as good as a cure (don’t they? something like that? anyone?) and it just so happened that when we poked our heads above ground after the move, not only the yellow light and the bellowing children were there at the end of the tunnel to greet us , but also Thoroughly Thorough Builder, gawd bless ‘is ‘eart, demanding lavatories with menaces. And so we have been cantering about the length and breadth of Sydney, peering down porcelain pans. And as we all know, questions about lavs beget questions about basins, which in turn beget questions about baths (baths! don’t get me started) and many assorted sundry etceteras. So we are diverted, madly, and in the diverted meanwhile TTBuilder is putting up floors, and patching brickwork….and so it may all come good in the end.